


This Can't Be Love

by TeyrianTimelord



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, M/M, Multi, Natasha kills people, OT3, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Civil War (Marvel), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Threesome - F/M/M, ends right as infinity war begins, no actual smut, sam is the real mvp, some stucky, steve has anger issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-07
Updated: 2018-06-07
Packaged: 2019-05-19 11:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14873211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeyrianTimelord/pseuds/TeyrianTimelord
Summary: "Steve didn’t know what to call what they have. It’s more than friendship, it’s more than teammate comradery, but it can’t be love. At least, he hopes it’s not love. After all they’ve been through, he’s not sure he can live in a world where their twisted and brutal… thing… can be considered love. "(In which Steve, Natasha, and Sam are not the same team they were in The Winter Soldier. Desperate times make desperate people do desperate things.)





	This Can't Be Love

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really, really fond of the relationship dynamic we saw between these three during the Edinburgh fight scene in Infinity War and wanted to explore that a little further. I'm considering writing a post-Infinity War follow up as well, but we'll see how it goes. Enjoy!

Steve didn’t know what to call what they have. It’s more than friendship, it’s more than teammate comradery, but it can’t be love. At least, he hopes it’s not love. After all they’ve been through, he’s not sure he can live in a world where their twisted and brutal… thing… can be considered love. 

 

Things have been different for him, Sam, and Natasha since going underground. He couldn’t pretend he wasn’t disappointed to see Wanda go her own way and Clint and Scott go back to their kids, but it was for the best. They had a chance at putting their lives back together; he couldn’t blame them for chasing that opportunity. Still, that didn’t mean it hurt any less to see the closest thing he had to family continue to fall apart, especially after Bucky made the choice to be put back into cryosleep. Things would have been so different -- better, easier, simpler-- if he still had his best friend by his side. There were times it felt like the war was on all over again, but he could have fought a thousand more wars if it meant knowing Bucky had his back like the old days. As much as his absence hurt Steve down to his very soul, having Sam and Natasha around was the next best thing he could ask for. 

 

The first few months were the hardest, as all three of them struggled to cope with their grief. Even through a career of leadership, none of it had quite prepared him for the polar opposites that were Sam and Natasha at rock bottom. Steve always knew Sam was a good soldier, but he hadn’t expected him to be the strongest link keeping them together. He almost always kept a level head, and despite the loss of his optimism, he never stopped refusing to give up on staying ahead of whatever emotions tried pulling him or the rest of his team down. Years of working with PTSD patients must have prepared him for this. On more than a few occasions, Steve had lost his temper at the slightest touch, screamed at nothing, punched holes in walls, started fights he didn’t need to,  only to have Sam pull him back to his senses.  _ You’re better than this Steve. You’ve survived worse. Get your head back in the game.  _ And on more than a few occasions, he was ashamed that he was pretending to lead when Sam was doing so much more. 

 

Then there was Natasha. Or more accurately, whoever Natasha had become. Nothing about her was the same. He knew the fall of SHIELD was hard on her after everything she had been through to finally find some redemption, and he highly suspected the schism of the Avengers and her separation from Clint was the last straw. She only talked to them when it was absolutely necessary and kept the conversations as short as possible. She’d disappear at random times without telling them where she was going or when she’d be back. Every week it was a new look, a new alias, a new bruise from something she refused to explain. Steve would have given anything to see her smile again. But when she fought, she fought like hell, as if everything they had done up until now was only half her capability. Whatever snapped in her brain or her heart after Clint left unleashed a warrior that truly frightened both Steve and Sam. In a word, she was terrifying. 

 

Despite the friendship the three of them had built over the previous two years, it was as if they were starting from scratch. Steve’s temper was shorter than ever, no matter how hard he tried to keep it under control. A part of him wondered if all his patience had died when he dropped his shield for the last time; if it died with Captain America. He took it out on Sam and Natasha more than was fair, and while Sam could roll with the punches, absorb and soothe his aggressions, Natasha was like a magnifying glass in front of a mirror. Everything that went her way came back in his face at twice the intensity. If he screamed, she screamed louder. If he threw something, she threw it harder. If he suffered, she suffered like he couldn’t even imagine. The episodes usually ended with her storming off to God knows where for God knows how long while Sam put what remained back together, literally and metaphorically, and Steve had nothing but to contemplate what the hell was wrong with him that he could treat his friends this way.

 

But all of that didn’t stop them from doing what they did best. With the Sokovia Accords weighing down what was left of the Avengers and New SHIELD still gettings its sea legs back, the world had need of some fast-acting help, even if no one acknowledged it. With Natasha’s expertise and Sam’s favors to call in, they could keep a low profile, hijacking tech where they needed to and keeping threats suppressed while flying under the radar. Every so often they could turn to T’Challa for help if times were desperate enough, but they were already asking so much with keeping Bucky in Shuri’s care. The last thing Steve wanted was to drain the king’s patience with his best friend’s wellbeing on the line. So they stayed on the move, hopping from city to city and country to country following the next threat (and there was always a next threat), whether it was former HYDRA, out of control Inhumans, large scale terrorists, or even just small scale pretty crime. They needed the fight. It was all they had left. That and each other. 

 

Steve didn’t know if it was better or worse that he remembered the exact day everything changed for them; as individuals, as friends, and as a team. They were chasing down a HYDRA lead deeply embedded in the upper ranks of the Bosnian government profiting from human trafficking. They had managed to capture a mole and interrogate him for information, but by the time any of them realized he was just the red herring, millions of dollars worth of Chitauri-powered weapons and 12 kidnapped Serbian girls were already out of the country with only a cold trail leading to nothing. Natasha took their mistake the hardest, and she slit their captive’s throat before either Sam or Steve could stop her. Steve still remembered watching in horror as the blood spurt spattered her face, dripping down her cheeks like tears of blood and with just enough landing in her hair to give chunks of the bleached blonde just a hint of the color they used to know. But she didn’t stop there. Even after the man was dead she kept stabbing her knife into his chest over and over again, letting out primal sounds that made his skin crawl, drenching her hands with blood. It took moments of shocked silence before Sam sprung into action and physically pulled her away from the corpse.  _ Take a walk, Romanoff. Clear your head.  _ But she didn’t leave. She didn’t walk off into the night like she usually would have. Instead she just dropped to her knees, not crying, not screaming, not making a single sound, and Steve realized protecting the innocent was the only thing keeping Nat from losing her mind. She deserved to have more than that to live for. When he had reached to touch her shoulder, she recoiled.  _ Don’t touch me. (Natasha, let me help you.) I said, don’t touch me.  _ He hadn’t listened. He was done listening, and he realized now that was a mistake. 

 

He remembered forcibly grabbing her by the back of her hair and dragging her to her feet. He remembered her not putting up a fight. He remembered Sam warning him that he was crossing a line that was going to get him killed. He remembered throwing her up against the closest wall and forcing her to look him in the eyes.  _ We used to be friends, Nat. You’ve hated being on this team ever since we left Clint. (Leave Clint out of this.) (Steve, you need to calm down.) I thought you could trust me and I could trust you. If that’s not still the case, then next time you leave, don’t come back. (Give me a fucking break, Rogers. You’re not Captain America anymore. You don’t get to pick and choose when to be in charge and when to be a walking disaster. You think I can’t handle losing Clint? How well are you doing without Bucky?) (Natasha, stop.) (Shut up, Sam.) Shut up, Sam.  _

 

The silence that had fallen over them still rang in his ears from time to time. In that moment, they weren’t a team. It was as if they never had been. At least when he parted ways with Tony, he knew he still had someone in his corner, but this was the first time since reading the Sokovia Accords that Steve felt well and truly alone, and it was his own damn fault. All of it was his fault. And that just made the rage worse. And then came this mistake. Or was it the right thing to do? He still wasn’t sure.

 

_ (I said, don’t touch me.) Or what, Natasha? You’ll kill me? If that’s what you really want, go ahead.   _

 

But she didn’t try to kill him. Maybe she would one day, but instead he felt her iron grip latch onto the back of his head and pull him into a kiss he couldn’t have stopped even if he had seen it coming from ten miles away. She still had blood on her face and he could taste it in her lips, along with all the bitterness and spite and anger and loneliness they both shared. Natasha wasn’t doing this to be kind or affectionate, to find some intimacy amidst their exile, to feel warmth again, no; this was a punishment. This was a reminder of everything good that once existed in their worlds, tainted by betrayal and regrets.  Accentuating her point, her nails dug harder and harder through his hair until he could feel the prick of breaking skin. Steve couldn’t close his eyes. What was left of his survival instincts wouldn’t let him. Sam stood stunned, unsure of what to do with himself, obviously trying his best to look away but unable to pry his gaze from the trainwreck happening in front of him. Steve shivered as he felt more of the dead man’s blood trickle down Natasha’s cheeks and into his beard. 

 

Finally Sam was the first one to come to his senses.  _ (You two need to get a damn room. Or get your shit together. No, fuck you guys, you need to do both! Looks like I’m just gonna clean up your mess, like usual.) (Sam, don’t you dare leave.)  _

 

And despite every fiber of his being finally realizing that he needed to listen to Sam and back down, he didn't stop her when she ripped through the nylon of his suit. And he didn't stop himself from grabbing onto her hips for dear life. He couldn't. Even through the new reinforced fabric of her uniform, he felt the tenseness in Natasha's muscles, the bristling rigidity that usually meant being ready to strike against an enemy. Maybe that wasn't inaccurate, because what happened next felt like an attack. There were teeth and nails and pushes and pulls and more confusion than he thought was possible. He tried to stay alert, to remain acutely aware of the dead body 10 feet away, of Sam standing by in confusion, of the now dried blood flaking off Natasha's skin, but he felt it all slipping away with every breath she stole from him. Cold sweat formed on his back as she clawed her way through his shirt. Natasha might not have been trying to kill him, but she was sure as hell trying to hurt him in more ways than one; to hurt herself. And it felt so good.    
  
( _ Sam, I need you. _ ) His skin burned at the absence of her lips. ( _ Are... are you sure? You're not thinking straight, Natasha, you're in shock. _ ) ( _ God damnit, Sam. I said. I. Need. You. _ ) Steve didn't remember too much after that, at least not the details. The memory was like a Van Gogh painting, all wide brush strokes of color and sensation. Maybe if he stood far enough back he could see the whole picture, but he was still too damn close. Natasha was pure fire, reds and yellows and oranges swirling in flames, licking at his heart and scorching his flesh. Sam was the purest and deepest of blues with sweeping grays, salving and soothing the burns she left behind in her wake. And he himself was nothing, nothing at all. No more resistance, no more power, no more rage, no more fear, no more sadness, no more loneliness. Just the blank canvas for them to come together and create their masterpiece in violent and glorious paints. A bloody, bloody masterpiece. By the time they were finished, the only thought he could pull together from his addled mind and exhausted body was  _ I wish Bucky was here too. _

 

_ *** _

  
“You’re thinking too hard, Steve,” Sam said as he started getting dressed for the day, interrupting Steve’s contemplation. “I can see it on your face.”   
  
“Yeah, I seem to be doing that a lot these days,” he replied.   
  
"What's on your mind, Cap?"   
  
Steve could never quite wrap his head around why Sam refused to give up use of the moniker. He hadn't felt like Captain America since the events of Siberia, and thought he made that know when he ripped the star off the front of his uniform and threw it into a trashcan fire on the outskirts of Azzano. It seemed like a poetic end to go back to the beginning and bury that part of himself for good, But Sam wouldn't let it go. You'll still be a captain even when they bury your ass six feet under. You earned it, Steve, and nothing can change that. Not even you. He still wasn't quite ready to accept that.   
  
"Honestly? You and Nat," he answered.    
  
"That's just asking for trouble," Natasha chimed in from the bathroom where she stood in front of the mirror, one towel wrapped around her torso and another in hand as she dried her hair. He couldn't help but miss the familiar copper tones he hadn't seen in what felt like ages. "I knew your survival instincts were weak, but not that weak."   
  
"You're hilarious," Steve deadpanned sarcastically, but deep down he was overjoyed to see some of her humor returning. He missed her dry wit, and there were a few months when he worried it would never come back.    
  
"Hey, she's not the one with a penchant for jumping out of airplanes without a parachute," Sam cut in as Natasha rolled her eyes.    
  
The arrangement was strange to say the least, but it was... helping. Maybe. That's what he liked to tell himself. Something felt wrong about just accepting what was going on without justifying or rationalizing it in some way. It felt right, but not natural, like it shouldn't be healthy. They promised to leave emotions out of the equation, to just make it a release and redirection of all their problems to keep from imploding the team again, but that was an impossible oath from the start. He knew it, and he was sure they did too, though he highly suspected no one wanted to be the first to admit it. Steve's rage was becoming more manageable. Sam was more relaxed. Natasha was starting to smile every once in a while. He didn't want to call it love, but he had to admit it was the closest any of them had come in a long time. He didn't want to call it love, but it sure as hell was more than just pleasure.    
  
Steve was about to come up with an equally cutting but playful remark when Natasha's phone started beeping in harsh tones. She quickly abandoned her beauty routine to check the screen, and he watched as her brow furrowed.    
  
"Looks like Wanda shut off her tracking device, and Vision just happens to be offline.Time to go to work, boys."


End file.
